Monday, July 10, 2017

Truck Stop Tryst Blog Tour + Giveaway

Aida Voltolini. Mob princess with a knife fetish. Pregnant heir to a deadly throne.
I couldn’t resist her laugh. I was defenseless against those damn doe eyes. I meant to stay away.
But then…
she kissed me.
Tucker Slade. Country boy with a heart of gold. A beautiful distraction with a dark secret. He was only meant to be a tryst.
But then…
that kiss. Oh, that kiss.

“I think this friendship thing is going to be fun.” Aida laughed, dabbing antibacterial goo on my lip with a cotton swab.
I’d never seen her so animated. It was inspiring, in a perverted way, listening to her babble about dicing onions and slicing skinheads, like they were normal, everyday tasks.
“Think I’ll need stitches?” I managed to mumble through my swollen lip.
I was seated on her bathroom toilet. Aida scooted between my knees, cupped my jaw and tilted my head up, inspecting the wound below my eye. “It’s iffy. If you don’t mind a kick-ass scar on your pretty mug, I’d say, no, it’s not necessary.”
Still holding my face, she studied my mouth. “It’ll scar either way, but your call. It’s clean. I’ve got skin adhesive we could use.”
It was hard to focus with her breasts in my face. I dug my nails into my thighs to keep from wrapping my arms around her hips and pulling her closer.
“Do what you gotta do, Doc,” I mumbled.
She stared down at me with those enormous brown eyes, and swear to Christ, she wanted to kiss me. I wanted her to kiss me. I wanted to taste those lips she’d been licking and biting for the past fifteen minutes.
A lip-lock would’ve hurt like hell in my current physical condition, so instead I asked, “Do I want to know why you have skin adhesive at your disposal?”
To which she replied, “No.”
“You’re good at this.”
“What?” she asked, eyes squinty, focused on my face.
“Taking care of wounds. You’ve done this a lot?”
“More times than I care to count.”
“Because you dated fighters?”
She sighed and rolled her eyes. “Because I’m the daughter of a gangster. There,” she said, stepping back to inspect her work, “good as new. Now, let’s get some ice on that lip, shall we?”

Aside from being an author, Krissy is an avid reader with an unhealthy obsession for dark and dirty romance.
She lives in Seattle with her husband, children, and too many four-legged, furry monsters. The only thing she loves more than curling up with a steamy romance novel is cozying up to her desk and writing her own sexy adventures to share with others.